The New Doctor
by GraceBe
Summary: A new Doctor arrives in Downton and he ruffles not only Doctor's Clarksons' feathers, but some of the others' as well. A Downton Christmas Story.
1. Darkness was cheap

**Here I am with a litte Christmas Story. I hope you will enjoy it. I'm going to place some quotes from famous Christmas stories in every chapter. Cookies for everyone who spots them :-) **

**Chapter 1- Darkness was cheap**

_Downton, December 1926_

Darkness was cheap. And comforting. Richard Clarkson leaned back in his chair and send a silent curse up to the ceiling. It was already half dark outside. Snow was whirling behind the window and the wind was hauling. Christmas was upon them, but he didn't feel like Christmas. He had no use for mistletoe, carols or plum pudding and he had never cared for eggnog.

He felt old and useless and the cause for his melancholic anger lay in the drawer of his desk. He had read the letter that had reached him with the morning post for about ten times. The more often he repeated the message in his head, the more it made him furious. The letter came from York. The administration of the hospital wanted to send him another doctor 'to assist him'. Some kind of internship. He scoffed. He knew what this meant. It was their plan to replace him, to oust him. They thought he was too old to run this place. He knew how these things worked. He had seen it in war and peace. First the young, fresh doctor would only 'assist' him and pretend to learn from him. Then he would start to making suggestions to run the hospital more efficiently. Soon someone would mention the little word 'retirement' and before he knew it would find himself in a cottage, surrounded by roses. All alone and out of work with a bottle of whiskey to accompany him.

What was his name again? Something Scottish, when he remembered correctly. They dared to send him a fellow Scot to banish him. McGregor? McEwan… Fredrick McEwan. Doctor Frederick McEwan. Married, no children, but young and fresh.

Clarkson decided it was time to swallow his disappointment with a drink. He opened the hidden cabinet in his desk and took out the bottle, but froze when he heard a knock at his door. He groaned. Not even his favourite treat was granted him on a day like this.

"Come in!"

He instantly recognized the shadow in the doorway. She was actually the last person he wanted to see right now.

After a short moment of confusion Isobel Merton switched on the lights. Blinded he closed his eyes for a few seconds.

"Is everything all right with you?" she asked bewildered and mindfully closed the door behind her. "You have the nurses in quite a state with your bad mood!"

"I've had better days," he admitted sourly.

"What is it? Can I help?" she asked with gleeful anticipation. Of course, the woman was always ready to _help_. Christ, she even got married to _help_. Sometimes he wondered if she would throw herself into a vulcan in order to _help_ someone.

In this case however, he wasn't sure if she was the one to turn to for help.

With a heavy sigh he opened his drawer and took out the letter. "What do you know about this?" he asked as he shoved the pages over the top of his desk.

Puzzled she quickly scanned the lines and blushed.

"You may pay special attention to the last paragraph," Clarkson said, satisfied about her embarrassment. "What does it say? 'Since Lady Merton suggested Doctor McEwan for the post…'". His voice trailed off and a meaningful silence filled the room.

Isobel dropped the letter and looked at the doctor. Her cheeks were still flushed. "I know what you're suggesting and I can assure you, this is not what happened," she said. "Do you really think I would suggest someone for such a post without consulting you or Lady Grantham?"

"Actually, yes."

If possible her cheeks became even redder and thunder awoke in her eyes. Sure, if he were too fierce with her now, she wouldn't tell him the truth, he decided to subdue his anger for a moment.

"But I want to give you the benefit of the doubt. So, what did happen?"

She gave him a look that could freeze lava, but he did his best not to yield. When she was angry like this she was the most beautiful woman on earth to him and he was reminded about his repressed feelings for her. He had never forgiven her for not even allowing him to propose to her and he would never forgive her for marrying someone else. It was ridiculous, of course, childish, but he couldn't help it. He was only human, only a man and his armour was bruised.

"I met Doctor McEwan last year spring in Manchester. I told him about the recent hospital merger and he was so intrigued that I promised him to write to the administration to recommend him for a post - in York. Not Downton."

"Well, he _is_ coming to Downton and we both know that they will want him to replace me rather sooner than later!"

"Aren't you a little too melodramatic?" she asked. "What if he just wants to see how a hospital like ours works?"

"Bah!" Clarkson scoffed. "Don't be so naive!"

"I'm many things, but not naive," she said, obviously offended by his words. "Anyway, I take it you won't need my help with this," she said as she put on her gloves. "You seem to have it all under control."

He ignored her snappy remark. "He will arrive the day after tomorrow. I'm sure you and Lady Grantham will want to welcome him."

"I'll be there," she said. "Good evening, Doctor."

"Good evening, Lady Merton."

* * *

When Isobel returned to the warmth and peace of Crawley House her mood improved massively. She couldn't believe that Doctor Clarkson actually suspected her of ousting him from the hospital. The man had a nerve, but this demeanour was typical for him. He lashed out at people and phrased his questions - if he had any - afterwards.

"His Lordship's in the library, Milady," the maid said when she helped Isobel out of her coat.

"Thank you. Would you bring us some tea into the drawing room?"

"Of course." The maid vanished downstairs and Isobel went upstairs to Dickie's 'man cave' as she used to call it. Library sounded grander, of course, but she had come to realize that the room was actually his refuge and she barely disturned him in there.

She knocked softly and peeked inside the room. He said in his favourite armchair by the fireplace. A sparkling fire filled the room with ease and comfort.

"I'm back," she announced.

He looked up from his book and a smile brightened all over his face when he saw her. "I was waiting for you!" he said and abandoned the book on the small table next to him.

"I was at the hospital to see Mrs Potter," she said. "The poor thing won't be released for Christmas and needed some cheering up," she said. Mrs Potter was a former neighbour of hers and suffered from pneumonia.

"You're such a treasure," Dickie said and kissed her cheek as she bent down to greet him.

Isobel sank in the armchair next to his and sighed. "And then I went to Doctor Clarkson, because the head nurse told me he was not quite himself." On her way home she hadn't been sure if she wanted to tell Dickie about her little argument with Clarkson, but now that she was home, so close to him and she abandoned her doubts. He was really the one person, Violet aside, she could tell everything.

"And?" he asked, sensing that she was upset. "What's wrong with him?"

"He got a letter from the hospital in York. Apparently a second doctor is coming to Downton and Doctor Clarkson fears, he's meant to replace him!"

"Surely not!"

Isobel shrugged. "The point is, I'm afraid I may be to blame for it."

"And why?" Dickie asked.

"Do you remember our trip to Manchester in spring?"

He smiled. How could he forget their little trip down her memory lane? They had gone to Manchester to finalize the selling of her old house in Manchester. At first he had been wary about the prospect of visiting her old life with her husband and her son, but it had actually helped him to understand her even better. In the end their stay in Manchester had helped her to draw a line under her former life and their bond had become even closer.

"Of course, I do," he said and took her hand.

"We met a young Doctor in my brother's hospital. His name was Doctor McEwan."

Dickie wrinkled his forehead while he tried to remember and place the different people and places they had visited. Then he suddenly remembered the man she was talking about.

"He was tall and fair-haired, wasn't he?"

She nodded, "Yes. He was so interested in the hospital merger that I wrote to York and asked them to invite him. Well, they did, but he's coming to Downton."

Dickie shrugged. "So? I doubt a doctor from Manchester wants to spend the rest of his professional life in Downton. Perhaps he's just curious."

"That's what I told Clarkson, but he was just… miffed." She exchanged a glance with Dickie and then she chuckled. "You should have seen him. He was sitting in the dark, huffing and puffing like Scrooge."

He laughed and shook his head. "You have to give the poor man a rest. It's not easy getting old."

"Well, I think it feels better not to think the worst of everyone. I just hope you're right and Doctor McEwan won't overstay his welcome!"

"And if he does, it won't be your fault," Dickie said. He leaned over to kiss her. A knock at the door jerked them apart. The maid came in and announced that the tea was ready and waiting for them.

"Thank you, Anne," Isobel said and waited until the maid had closed the door again. "I love you," she said and kissed him once more.

"What was that for?" he asked surprised.

"Because you are you," she answered. "And now let's go downstairs to have some tea."

******tbc******


	2. Humbug!

**Chapter 2 - Humbug!**

"Humbug!" Clarkson repeated the word like a mantra - but it was all just inside his head. He couldn't say it out loud, because he wanted to be as civil and polite as possible. Being nice when feeling angry wasn't his strength, but he had to try. The last thing he wanted was to give the hospital in York or the members of the local hospital board a reason to sack him.

The new doctor had arrived the day before and today was their first meeting at the hospital. To Clarkson's eternal disappointment the young man turned out to be a rather nice chap. He was fairspoken, sophisticated, and handsome. His blue eyes sparkled and there was a permanent glow about him. In fact Doctor Frederick McEwan reminded him of the late Matthew Crawley, which was perhaps the biggest indicator for his suspicion about Lady Merton's involvement in his posting being true. She denied it, of course she denied it, but Clarkson didn't believe her when she said she had not used her position in the hospital to facilitate McEwan's internship. He knew Isobel had a cunning strike about her when she wanted something and deep down he knew she would use it against him when she saw the need to do so. She was ruthless and sometimes he wondered why he always forgave her.

What disappointed him was the fact that Lady Grantham was so pleased with McEwan's arrival that she didn't even ask Clarkson for his opinion about the matter. As glad as he was that he didn't have to deal with the Dowager Countess anymore, there were times when her daughter-in-law drove him just as mad with her urge to modernize things that didn't need modernizing. He figured it was the American in here that always looked for useless improvement.

So far he had done his best to be as nice as possible and the demeanour of the young doctor made it easy to be nice on the surface, but he liked to be on his toes just in case he was about to be doubled-crossed.

The two men finished their walkabout through the hospital in Clarkson's office.

"We have a room prepared for you, but I'm afraid it won't be ready until the day after tomorrow," Clarkson said. The last thing he wanted was to share his office with someone else. Fortunately Lady Grantham had been happy to provide the idea that an unused storage room could be converted into a small office for 'the nice young doctor'. Humbug!

McEwan smiled politely. "That won't be a problem, Doctor. Actually, I wasn't sure you'd welcome me with open arms!"

Clarkson cleared his throat. Had he given himself away? "Why's that?"

McEwan chuckled, "Well, this isn't the first time I'm sitting in on a small hospital with just one other doctor. The last time I was welcomed with a rather sour attitude and a desk without a chair in the basement."

"Well, that won't happen to you here," Clarkson said. He knew his face looked like a tomato in the late summer and so he quickly added, "So, how do you like your accommodation?"

"It's brilliant! Rachel's already in love with the house." Clarkson smirked. Thanks to Isobel Merton Doctor McEwan and his wife had found shelter in his predecessor's home down the road. The small cottage had been empty for several years, but thanks to the Crawley's it was now nice and tidy - perfect for the new doctor and his wife. Humbug!

"We are very grateful."

"It wasn't my idea," Clarkson admitted and finally remembered to offer his colleague seat. "It was Lady Merton who arranged everything."

"I know. She's a special woman!"

"She is indeed."

"How long have you known her?" McEwan asked curiously.

Clarkson wrinkled his forehead and counted the years, trying to picture the day she waltzed into his hospital. "She and her son arrived here fifteen years ago," he said, wondering how time could have flown so fast.

"I heard about him," McEwan said. "What a tragedy. To die so young!"

"It was," Clarkson mused, remembering the day Isobel's son had died. It was the day after he had wanted to propose to her.

"Will you do me a favour, Doctor?" The question brought Clarkson back to reality. Puzzled he looked the young man in the eye. "What can I do for you?"

"Would you like to join my wife and me for dinner? Not today, but tomorrow? We would like to thank you for your generosity."

Feeling a revealing lump in his throat, Clarkson nodded slowly. The man was either too naive or too cunning for his taste. "Why not?" he asked.

"Rachel is a great cook and she already said, she looks forward to meeting you!"

"So, please tell her, it'll be my pleasure!" Clarkson hadn't met Mrs McEwan yet, but he had heard from one of his nurses that she was just as nice as her husband. Nice and pregnant. "But I don't want to impose on you. I've heard your wife is expecting!"

McEwan shook his head, "Don't worry. Rachel's as strong as she's stubborn. She really wants to meet you!"

"In this case, I'll accept you invitation." Clarkson rose, signalizing the conversation was over. "I have to make some house calls now," he said. "Why don't we continue tomorrow morning? At this time of year, the hospital's more of a deserted place."

McEwan seemed puzzled. "I had hoped to…" he blushed and added nervously. "Can't I join you? I would really like to see how you work!"

Clarkson wasn't in the mood to have someone look over his shoulder for the rest of the day, but said, "All right…" and thought, "Humbug!"

* * *

Dickie walked through the heavy snowfall up to the church. He usually made a short stop at his parent's grave, but due to the weather he simply hastened inside. It was cold in the church, but at least dry. The lights were dimmed and gave the place a mystic air. Mister Travis had asked him for a short meeting, but hadn't mentioned the reason. Dickie suspected the Reverend wanted to ask him for a donation, perhaps for the clock tower that needed some refurbish work.

Without forewarning the sound of the organ filled the old walls. Dickie startled and looked up the gallery. He expected to find the usual musician, Mister Brown, at the organ, but to Dickie's surprise he saw woman sitting up there. He had never seen such reddish hair in his life and he had never heard anyone playing the organ so beautifully. He couldn't remember seeing her in the village and wondered who she was and why on earth she was playing the organ at this time of day. He stood there, listening for a while, suddenly hoping Travis wouldn't arrive too soon.

Suddenly the music faded and the woman turned around, as if she were sensing someone else's presence.

"Excuse me," Dickie yelled up. "I'm looking for Mister Travis. Do you know where he is?"

The woman rose and Dickie realized she was heavily pregnant. A pregnant musician wasn't exactly a sight he was used to.

"I'm afraid I haven't seen him. I'm here to look for him myself," she answered on her way downstairs. It was hard for Dickie to place her accent, but it wasn't Yorkshire that much he could say. When she reached him, he realized that she was almost as tall as he was and even younger than he had estimated. The red-headed beauty was not older than thirty and her milky skin was mottled with freckles. She looked utterly sympathetic and natural.

"I forgot to introduce myself," he said and, remembering his manners, he quickly lifted his hat. "I am Lord Merton."

Her polite smile brightened and became one that reached her eyes. "Really? I'm Mrs McEwan, Doctor McEwan's wife!"

"How marvellous!" Dickie returned the smile and scolded himself for his slow thinking. Isobel had told him the Doctor and his wife had arrived the day before. "Lady Merton's told me about your arrival. Have you already settled in?"

"Well, not quite…" she blushed. "But every time I enter a church I have to inspect the organ. I know it's not really what one should do, but I love the sound of music - especially around Christmas!"

"True. It's the most magical time of year!" he agreed. Silence fell between them and then she said, "My husband's told me so much about your wife."

"Really?" Dickie asked, a bit dumbfounded.

"Yes. You can really get to know someone when you are corresponding."

"Corresponding…" Dickie repeated, totally clueless.

"Yes, after her visit in Manchester he wrote to her and asked for her help for a posting in this area. Didn't you know?"

"Ah! Of course!" Dickie cleared his throat. "That's what you mean. Well, she's always eager to help."

"And so she has! You know at first I thought he was asking too much of her, but when she wrote to him four weeks ago and asked for a meeting in York, we couldn't believe our luck! Unfortunately I couldn't meet her then, because I wasn't feeling too well." She tenderly ran her hands over her rounded belly. A bit embarrassed Dickie cleared his throat, "I see. Well, I'm sure, it won't take long until you meet her," Dickie said tonelessly. "She's often at the hospital."

"I know she was a nurse and served as an almoner."

"So she was," he confirmed. He unbuttoned his coat and checked his pocket watch. Travis was almost twenty minutes late by now.

"I think the reverend has forgotten about me," Dickie concluded.

"Perhaps he's stuck in the weather," Mrs McEwan suggested with a shrug.

"Yes, perhaps."

Dickie tipped his hat and bowed his head. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs McEwan," he said. "If you see Mister Travis, please give him my regards. I'm sure we can meet some other time."

"Oh, of course, I will," she promised. "It was nice meeting you, Lord Merton." She smiled warmly at him and he smiled back, though he didn't feel like smiling at all. Isobel had never told him about a meeting with Doctor McEwan in York nor had she ever mentioned a more frequent correspondence with him. It wasn't like her not to tell him about such matters - on the contrary. Was she hiding something from him? And if so, why?

Uneasy and with a heavy heart Dickie buttoned his coat, bracing himself for the cold weather outside. Preoccupied with multiple explanations about his wife's untold secrets he left the church and went back to Crawley House.

When Mister Travis arrived ten minutes later, the church was empty. He only found a scarf with the embroidered initials 'R.C.' on the floor next to the altar.

* * *

Violet Crawley wasn't feeling very well. The sudden onset of winter let the pain in her bones roar and so she had decided to stay in bed for at least one day. She had the creeping feeling that it was her last winter on this earth and she needed to come to terms with the idea of her upcoming demise.

Isobel who was sitting in an armchair near her bed had no idea Violet's condition was probably worse than the older woman let on and thought she just needed a day or two to recuperate.

"Will you join us for dinner on sunday?" Isobel asked.

"I think so," Violet said. "Why? Will anything special happen on sunday?"

"Cora was thinking about inviting Doctor McEwan," Isobel said. "She thinks the family should meet him."

"I see." Violet placidly took a sip from her tea. "How does Clarkson like the addition of a young doctor?"

Isobel shrugged, "He's not happy. But then has he ever been happy about anything?"

"Well, I know a thing or two that could make him happy…."

Isobel gave Violet a nasty glance. "And having a young doctor around is not one of them," Violet concluded.

"He thinks it's all my fault," Isobel said. "But it's not. All I did was asking for a posting in York for him!"

"Have you met Doctor McEwan yet?" Violet asked. "Perhaps he knows the reason why York decided to send him here."

"Only yesterday morning, when he arrived, but there wasn't much room for talking." Isobel fell silent and stared into her cup.

Violet noticed how preoccupied her friend looked and tilted her head, "Is there something you are not telling me?"

"What do you mean?" Isobel asked.

"About this doctor."

"He's just a doctor," Isobel said, a bit too defensively for Violet's taste.

"So, why all the fuss about him?"

"I'm not the one who's making a fuss," Isobel said. "Clarkson is!"

"And what does Dickie say?" Violet asked.

"Dickie?"

"Yes. I guess he will have an opinion on the matter."

"He supports me," Isobel replied crisply and Violet rolled her eyes. "Of course, he does," she replied her annoyance palpable. "Heaven forbids the day, he won't."

Uncomfortable Isobel shifted on her seat. "Why are you nagging at me like this?" she asked.

"I'm not nagging. I'm just wondering what this is all about."

"It's nothing," Isobel answered. "I just wish Doctor Clarkson would stop being so hostile and see the positive side of things. Perhaps it's time he got some help around the hospital. He isn't getting any younger after all."

"If you want to sell him the idea, I would refrain from using this kind of advertisement," Violet quipped. "No man likes to hear, he's getting too old to get the job done."

"I'm aware of that," Isobel admitted. "But his reaction tells me, he is perhaps more than ready to pass on the torch." She finished her tea and checked her small watch.

"I have to get going. Dickie's waiting for me."

"Of course. I'll see you on Sunday then." Violet said.

"Take care of yourself," Isobel said as she walked to the door. "You look a bit pale."

Violet crooked her eyebrow. "It is exactly that kind of sentiment that can result in becoming rather lonely."

Now it was isobel's turn to roll her eyes as she left the Dower House to go home. She couldn't say why, but she had the rising feeling that the arrival of Doctor McEwan was causing more uproar than she had anticipated.

****tbc****

**Thank you all so much for the overwhelming amount of reviews, especially to all the guest reviewers. I hope you all 'enjoyed' this chapter, even though it sets up a bit of drama... Have a great weekend! **


	3. Christmas is a State of Mind

**Chapter 3 - Christmas is a State of Mind**

After her return from the Dower House, Isobel asked the maid to bring her the boxes with the Christmas decorations from the attic. While she waited for Dickie to leave his study she searched the boxes in the drawing room. The snowfall outside had increased and so the shutters were already closed and the maid added more wood to the fire.

It was almost time for dinner when Dickie finally peaked in and found his wife in the midst of ornaments, Christmas stockings, and a various range of tree candle sticks. "Is everything all right?" he asked when he saw how deeply lost in her thoughts she was.

She looked up when she heard his voice. "I'm sorry... Look what I found!"

Curiously he looked over her shoulder. She showed him an old Christmas stocking with Matthew's name embroidered on it.

"I thought I had left it in Manchester," she explained and ran her thumb across the letters. "Mama made it when Matthew was born."

"Why are you doing this tonight?" he asked as he took the stocking from her. He smiled while he admired the delicate work of the mother-in-law he had never met.

She shrugged and said, "The tree will be delivered tomorrow and I wanted to sort out the ornaments and found this. I'm afraid I got lost in my memories!"

He sat down next to her. "Do you want to hang it up?" he asked gently, but she shook her head. "I don't think so. Matthew asked me not to hang it up after he stopped believing in Father Christmas. He was such a serious child at times. I think I'll just keep it and show it to George one day."

With a heavy sigh, she dropped it into the box. She didn't want to become any more mawkish and looked at Dickie. "What have you been doing this afternoon?" she asked.

"I went to the church to meet Mister Travis, but he wasn't there. He telephoned later and apologized. He was stuck at one of the farms, but…" he made a pause, unsure how to proceed. Did he really want to bring up his meeting with Mrs McEwan and what she told him?

"Go on," she encouraged him when she sensed there was something he wasn't telling her.

"I've met Doctor McEwan's wife in the church. She was playing the organ."

Isobel chuckled in response, "I've heard she's an impressive person."

"She is…," Dickie confirmed. "Quite so." He cleared his throat, which earned him a cheeky glance from his wife.

"Do you think she's beautiful?" Isobel asked. "The head nurse spoke about her as being tall, pretty, and red-headed lie a witch. She thinks Travis would want to burn her at the stake once he lays his eyes on her."

"She's… good-looking," Dickie confirmed a bit uneasy. "And her hair is indeed very red."

"And that's all?" Isobel dug deeper.

"She's a good musician. She could easily take over from Mister Brown - at least until her child is born."

He remembered how she fondled her belly. The gesture had touched him, but he also remembered how Mrs McEwan had spoken about her husband and Isobel and their meeting in York. A meeting she had kept a secret from him.

Before he had come downstairs he had checked his diary to find out where he had been around the time Isobel and the doctor had met in York. He had figured the only possible day for their meeting was the day he had been in Ripon with Larry to see their solicitor. As always when he had to deal with Larry, the nature of their business with the lawman had been ghastly and he simply hadn't noticed that Isobel had been away for the day. What bothered him was to think she had chosen precisely this day for her trip, because she knew he would be too busy to care for her absence.

"I think she's due in a few weeks," Isobel said. "Cora's told me she's going to invite them for dinner on Sunday."

"That's very kind of her," Dickie said.

"She's very eager to show them her support."

"Have you met him?"

Isobel crooked her eyebrow."Yes, yesterday morning. I told you about it!"

"That's not what I mean," he clarified. "Mrs McEwan said, you've met her husband in York about a month ago."

The clock struck seven times while neither of them said a word. He saw the light of the fire flickering in her eyes and wondered what was going on in her head. He liked to think he knew the woman he loved, but in situations like these he realized he would never know her completely - just as she would never know everything about him.

"He wrote me a letter and told me he was going to visit friends in York. Cora and I had a meeting in the hospital in York the same day and I suggested we could meet for tea, if he wanted to."

"So, Cora was there too?" Dickie asked, almost relieved.

"No, she had an appointment with her dressmaker." She made a pause and added, "We had tea for half an hour and he asked me if I knew anyone in the hospital administration in York who could help him with a posting and that was all. I never mentioned it, because it didn't seem important. You had this horrid meeting with Larry that day and…" her voice faded. "I know this look on your face, Dickie. I swear I didn't think it was important. It was just tea."

"I felt like a fool when she spoke about you," he confessed and added, "Of course, I believe you."

"You better believe me. Violet has already roasted me about Doctor McEwan. She thinks I'm trying to send Clarkson into retirement."

"Are you?" Dickie asked bluntly.

"No. All I want for this hospital is to change for the better and if Doctor McEwan is helping with that I won't complain." She reached out to touch his chin, "I'm quite flattered that you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," he said a tad too defensive. "Just curious why my wife is having a secret assignation with a man who could be her son." He tried to smile, but it wasn't as easy as he wanted it to be. He was indeed jealous and he feared to lose her.

"I'm a lot duller and less adventurous than you think," she said tenderly. Her thumb caressed his cheekbone and she leaned in. "At least he's not a red-head," she quibbed as her lips brushed his mouth and lured him into a long and satisfying kiss.

* * *

As expected Doctor McEwan and his wife Rachel were the centre of attention when they visited the Abbey for the first time on Sunday evening. Cora had also asked Doctor Clarkson to attend and since he couldn't think of a good explanation to bottle out he found himself between Mary and Isobel at the big dining table. The only person missing was the Dowager Countess. She had developed a bad cold and stayed at home, which was probably for the best. Clarkson had the feeling the Dowager wouldn't have been happy about most topics of conversation that circled around the hospital, its funding, and - God forbid - the modernization of hospitals all around England.

Isobel noticed - to her amusement and lurking dismay - that Dickie seemed to enjoy his conversation with Mrs McEwan. He was someone who was always friendly, but he paid the very pregnant and very beautiful woman way too much attention for her taste. She was glad when the dinner was over and everyone gathered in the drawing room where they enjoyed their coffee or a drink.

At the table Doctor McEwan had sat too far away from her, but now, armed with a drink and a big smile, he approached Isobel who was sitting in the corner of the room next to Tom.

"Lady Merton?" McEwan asked.

"Yes?" She gave him a smile.

"I would like a word."

Tom understood the hint and rose. "Excuse me, please."

McEwan took the deserted seat and lowered his voice. "I didn't have the opportunity to thank you yet."

"There's nothing to thank me for," Isobel said.

"Oh, I think there is," McEwan insisted. "Without you we wouldn't be here and we wouldn't have a home."

Her smile was slowly fading. She felt Doctor Clarksons' eyes on her. She knew nothing she had told him could diminish his suspicion. Their friendship had always been prickly, but this was the first time, she actually thought they could fall out for good. McEwan's presence was a threat to Clarkson and he wasn't the man to take the high road.

"Forgive me," Isobel said. "But I have a question and I would like a straight answer."

"Of course!"

"Why are you in Downton?" she asked bluntly. "I thought you wanted to work in York. The hospital there offers much more opportunity to prove yourself than our little county hospital."

McEwan blushed. He seemed surprised by the question and cleared his throat before he answered, "I'm much more of a country person," he said. "And so is Rachel."

Isobel crooked her eyebrow, not really convinced by his answer. She looked at Rachel who was talking to Cora and Mary. She caught herself thinking that Rachel's evening gown looked a little to urban for a woman who loved the rural side of England. "I see."

To her surprise, he leaned in a bit and lowered his voice, "Do you think it's possible that we can talk in… private?"

"Here? Tonight?" She shook her head. "I don't think so. Not with you being the centre of attention!"

"Of course, forgive me!" Embarrassed he got back to his feet and made a small bow. Isobel looked up and saw that Dickie was approaching them. She sincerely hoped he wanted to suggest they should go home and wouldn't ask her what Doctor McEwan had talked to her about. As if he wanted to avoid a conversation with Dickie, the young doctor joined his wife and Mary who were still talking by the fireplace. Isobel watched him with mixed feelings.

"Is anything the matter?" Dickie asked and followed her gaze.

"No," Isobel answered. "But I want to go home."

"Your wish is my command," he said.

"Good." She finished her glass of brandy and followed him to Cora and Robert to say goodbye. "It was a long day!"

* * *

If she had hoped they could escape the small dinner party just like that, Isobel had been mistaken. Clarkson and the McEwans decided to head home as well. Rachel complained about aching feet and Clarkson seemed just glad that he wasn't the first to leave the Abbey. Quickly the great hall became busy with chatter and footmen who carried coats and tophats.

Rachel Mcewan stood admiringly in front of the big, still naked, Christmas tree while she was waiting for Andy to bring her coat.

"What a marvellous tree!" she said to Dickie who was standing next to her.

"Lady Grantham told me it was delivered this morning. The children will help dressing it tomorrow."

"You know for me Christmas has always been a state of mind and not so much about decorations or anything, but with a tree like this I could change my mind!"

Dickie laughed. "I agree that certain surroundings can change one's perspective."

Andy arrived with Rachel's coat.

"It was a pleasure meeting you again, Lord Merton" she said to Dickie.

"It was my pleasure," Dickie returned. "The next time you want to play the organ at the church you have to talk to Mister Travis. I'm sure he will be as delighted as I was."

Rachel shrugged, "I'm not so sure about that. What I heard about him he seemed quite a stoic figure."

Dickie smiled. "Don't worry about that. I can talk to him, if you want to."

"Oh, I can't ask that from you!"

"Of course, you can!" He gave her smile and turned around to look for Isobel. He found her standing across the hall where Barrow helped her into her coat while her eyes were fixated on him. If he wasn't mistaken, she was angry with him and he feared the short trip back to Crawley House could be a very silent and long one. Had he paid Rachel McEwan too much attention? His first wife had never cared if he talked to other women - on the contrary. And why was Isobel being jealous when she was the one who had met another man in secret without telling him even if she later claimed she had simply forgotten to mention it?

* * *

"Lady Merton?"

Isobel rolled her eyes and turned her eyes away from Dickie. If her husband was trying to teach her lesson with his overstated interest in Mrs McEwan, he was in for a surprise. Once they had left the Abbey, she would let him know exactly what she thought of his lame attempt to awaken her jealousy!

But first things first. Doctor McEwan had approached her from behind and she turned to him, ready to tell him to take care of his own wife for a change.

"Yes?" She snapped, which caused his eyes to widen in surprise.

"I just wanted to apologize for my behaviour earlier," he uttered. "I was… overwhelmed. That's all."

"Overwhelmed?" She repeated, caught somewhere between amusement and annoyance.

"Yes. Being here… so close to you… It was quite… mind-blowing."

Isobel didn't know what to say. McEwan's phrasing and the way he looked at her irritated her immensely. There was nothing mind-blowing about her. The only thing that was growing out of proportion was her anger about herself.

"Believe me, when I came here the first time I was quite overwhelmed myself," she said, hoping to stir their conversation in a less awkward direction.

"I wasn't talking about Downton Abbey," McEwan admitted lowly. "Although it is quite beautiful and… big."

"So what are you talking about?" Isobel asked.

"I was talking about you. I know, you've been trying to avoid me since our meeting in York, but…"

Isobel shook her head. What was he talking about?

"I think you've got the wrong impression," she said. She quickly looked around. Dickie, now fully dressed, was talking to Mary and Robert and so she withdrew behind the pillar near the staircase. She didn't want anyone to eavesdrop on them and McEwan followed her.

"Doctor McEwan, I think you owe me an explanation, but I strongly suggest we continue this conversation another time."

Guiltstricken, he nodded. "I agree. Could we meet tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, why not," she said. "But not in the hospital and not at my house."

Again he nodded. "What about the churchyard?" He suggested.

She wasn't happy with the choice, especially with the weather outside being as cold and ghastly as it was, but if she didn't want to be seen with him by Dickie or anyone else, she had no other choice left. "All right. At eleven then. Good night, Doctor."

* * *

Clarkson was the only one who didn't use a car to get home. Everyone had offered to take him back to the village, but he wanted to walk. He longed for the silence and the peace of the night. The snowfall had stopped, but it was still cloudy and while he walked down the snowy road, he remembered every aspect of the strange dinner party. He felt as if he were caught in the centre of an eerie web of complicated relationships.

Doctor McEwan, as nice as he was, was a strange fellow. After tonight he was even more convinced that he stood in some ominous connection to Lady Merton. McEwan hadn't taken his eyes from Isobel all evening and she seemed unhappy with it. His wife, the very beautiful Rachel didn't seem to mind and seemed more interested in Lord Merton. Clarkson smirked. Lord Merton was barely a skirt chaser, but he seemed smitten by Rachel's interest in him. But even if the relationship between Isobel and him was strained that didn't change anything about the fact that she was his wife. She had made her bed, so to speak and if she had made a mistake that was her problem, not his. God knew, she had said so to him time and time again.

He heard the coughing noise of an approaching car and looked up. The vehicle was loud, way too fast, and the driver didn't seem to know what he was doing. The motorcar swerved about. After days of snowfall the road was slippery and the darkness wasn't helpful. Annoyed Clarkson suspected that the driver had had too much to drink and so he stepped aside, hoping the car would pass him and reach its destination without causing any damage or harm.

Once the car had passed Clarkson, he sighed, shook once again his head, and marched on. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the ice-bound pothole in the street and slipped. He cried out in surprise and one second later in pain when his back painfully crashed onto the cold road. It took him another few seconds to understand what had happened and that he had to get up again. He bobbed himself up, slipped again, this time he fell onto his knees, and when he looked up he heard another car driving down the road. He cursed, was blinded by the lights, and heard the tyres squealing…

******tbc******

**Since I doubt I'll be able to post another chapter before Christmas Eve I wish you all a very happy Christmas. Take good care of yourself and your loved ones:-)**


	4. Every Christmas is last Christmas

**Chapter 4 - Every Christmas is last Christmas **

Clarkson groaned in agony. He didn't dare to open his eyes, but when he finally did so, he saw the fading light of the day falling through the window. He touched his forehead and flinched. There was a bandage around his head and whatever lay underneath hurt like hell. He had the sense he knew where he was, but couldn't name the place. The smell that hung in the air was all too familiar.

"Ah, there you are!"

He knew the voice, but he didn't like the sound of it. With difficulty he turned his head to see if he was right with his suspicion or still unconscious, far away in a place filled with nightmares.

"Dear God!"

"Not quite," Dickie Merton answered a bit amused. He was sitting on a chair next to Clarkson's bed. The doctor himself was the only inhabitant of the men's ward of the Downton County Hospital. It was Christmas Eve and every person who didn't need special attention was home at this time of year.

"How are you feeling?" Dickie asked. "You gave us quite a scare!"

"I feel like hell." He eyed Dickie suspiciously. "When did I hire you as a nurse?"

Dickie chuckled. "Actually, Isobel gave me the order to watch you, while she and Doctor McEwan were paying house calls to some of your patients."

Clarkson scoffed, but the noise he made echoed in his head. "What happened? And what day is it?" he asked once the throbbing in his head had subsided.

Dickie hesitated with his answer, "It's Christmas Eve and … It actually is quite embarrassing…"

"Not as embarrassing as this is to me," Clarkson said dryly.

Dickie cleared his throat. "I'm afraid our car hit you on our way home."

"Your car…" He suddenly remembered the blurry lights and the sound of the tires on the slippery asphalt. "But you left the Abbey before me, didn't you?"

"Well, yes…. But we had to go back, because Lady Merton had forgotten her purse. My driver tried to avoid the accident, but… we were lucky. Doctor McEwan says after a few days of rest you'll be completely fine again."

Clarkson touched his aching head. "Concussion?" He asked.

Dickie nodded, "Yes, and some bruising. Nothing too serious."

"And I'm sure Doctor Mcewan is glad to be of help!" Clarkson tried to sit up, but every bone in his body seemed to hurt and so he gave up the effort and sank back into his pillow. "So, you almost got me killed," Clarkson concluded without any bitterness in his voice. He was just stating a mere fact and one that didn't surprise him. His luck had run out a long time ago.

"I wouldn't go that far," Dickie said. "It was a stupid accident. Isobel is deeply upset about it!"

Clarkson giggled joylessly, "She's so upset that she has you sitting here while she's out and about with my replacement. Forgive me, but all of this is rather ironic!"

"You are not doing her any justice," Dickie said. "She just felt it was better if she went with Doctor McEwan, because she knows your patients better than anyone. One of them is the Dowager Countess. The whole village is upset about the accident!"

Deep inside Clarkson knew Dickie was right, but he couldn't help feeling a stitch in his heart when he thought about Isobel and that she had the nerve to order her husband to prove his bedside manner with him. And then there was Doctor McEwan, a man who showed a deeply questionable interest in her. Humbug!

"Do you really believe that excuse?" Clarkson asked.

Dickie thought for over a minute before he answered, "I do have to trust her judgement," he said. "Should I call a nurse? Is there anything you need? Water perhaps?"

* * *

The sun had already set when Isobel and Doctor McWwan returned to the hospital. To Isobel's relief the afternoon had been quickly passed by without any embarrassment or unforeseen events. Doctor McEwan was well-liked among the patients - especially the older ones. Isobel suspected that McEwan's Scottish accent helped. It reminded the villagers of Doctor Clarkson that created trust. The Dowager was on her best behaviour when they called on her - in fact isobel wondered what Violet was up to.

"I don't know how to thank you!" McEwan said when they reached Doctor Clarkson's office. "You've been a great help!"

"You are exaggerating," Isobel answered. "You did very well on your own! The people like you - even Lady Grantham, which is kind of an accolade itself!"

McEwan laughed, "I think they like the idea of me. They don't know me - yet."

Irritated by that comment, Isobel wrinkled her forehead. She knew her talk with Doctor McEwan was still due, but she didn't feel like having that conversation right now. It was Christmas Eve and it was late. She felt worn out. They were supposed to be at the Abbey in the evening, but she truly wanted to cancel it. She had barely slept after the accident and the atmosphere between her and Dickie was still tainted as a consequence of the dinner party from the night before. They had postponed any conversation about the McEwan's until things had calmed down, but her spending so much time with the Doctor wouldn't help to clear things up.

"I'm going to look how Doctor Clarkson is," Isobel said. "I hope he's feeling better."

"I doubt it," McEwan said. "He was lucky, but with his injuries it's better for him to sleep. He needs rest."

"I won't impose on him," Isobel said. "I just want to see if he's all right."

"You care for him, don't you?" McEwan asked. Her hand froze around the door knob and turned around to face McEwan.

"He's a good friend," she answered with growing annoyance. "I've known him for a long time."

"I think he's not happy with me being here, because of you."

"I beg your pardon?!" Sensing she was about to lose her patience, she did her best to keep her emotions in check.

"Can't we be honest with each other?" McEwan asked and suddenly he was the one who seemed tired. He rubbed his face and sighed. "Please, I'm so tired of pretending." He leaned against Clarkson's desk and crossed his arms over chest.

"I'm afraid you've lost me," Isobel said. "Listen, Doctor, it was a long day and I want to go home."

"I can understand that, but I shouldn't be too much asked from you, to tell me the truth."

"What truth?" Her voice was high-pitched now. She hated when that happened to her, because it gave away her state of mind, her uneasiness.

"Lady Merton, we both know why I am here and why you helped me to get this posting."

"The point is, I know you asked to be posted here. I only asked for a short-termed position in York, not here in Downton," Isobel clarified. "I telephoned the president of the board this morning and he confirmed my suspicion and I would thank you for telling that to Doctor Clarkson who enjoys his role as sulking schoolboy and blames me for everything."

McEwan blushed. Glad, she had hit a nerve, Isobel straightened her shoulders.

"You're right. I did ask for the position here, because I wanted to be close to you."

"And why's that?" She truly feared the answer, but it was a question that needed to be asked.

McEwan drew a deep breath, "Because, you are my mother."

* * *

Clarkson felt how he became dizzy. He grabbed for the doorframe, but the hard wood seemed to slip his fingers. His sight became blurry.

The words "Because you are my mother" echoed in his head and became a drum roll that deafened him. He tried to steady his breath, but his efforts were useless. He hadn't wanted to eavesdrop, but on his way to his office he had seen Isobel and Doctor McEwan arriving and he couldn't resist the temptation to follow them. He wanted to get to the bottom of their secret - only to hear more than he had bargained for.

He wished there was chair next to his office door, but there wasn't. He leaned at the cold wall and slid down until he had reached the floor. He felt safer there and at least he couldn't fall any deeper.

Slowly his sense of hearing returned. He heart loud voice, angry steps, and suddenly someone was yelling his name.

"Doctor Clarkson!" he looked up. Isobel stood over him and was talking to him. He heard the words, but couldn't understand their meaning.

"What is it?" he asked confused.

"You need to go to bed!" she said loud and clear. "It's too cold here!" Her eyes were on one level with his now and she smirked while she placed her hands on his shoulders.

"That's the concussion. You should have stayed in bed. Where's Lord Merton?"

Clarkson thought for a moment and then he said, "I sent him home. I was afraid he would start reading a story to me."

"You don't know what you've missed," Isobel said and her blue eyes sparkled with amusement. "His interpretation of Hamlet is legendary."

Two nurses and Doctor McEwan arrived and helped him up.

"I'll come back tomorrow," Isobel said to Clarkson. "Look after him," she told the nurses as they led him away.

Without any resistance Clarkson allowed the nurses to bring him back to bed. He thought of Isobel and her smiling face. Perhaps he had just been imagining what he had overheard in his office. It was ridiculous to think she had another son… he looked over his shoulder and saw her standing next to Doctor McEwan. The smile had vanished from her face and Doctor McEwan's head hung in shame.

* * *

Dickie came downstairs when he heard a flustered female voice in the hallway.

"What is it?" he asked the maid who tried to get rid off the visitor at the door. It was Rachel McEwan. Her hat barely covered her wild red hair and her cheeks were flushed.

"Please, I need to see Lady Merton," Rachel pleaded.

"She's not here," Dickie said and hushed the maid away. "I'll take care of this."

"It's important," Rachel insisted helplessly.

"Why don't you come in?" He asked. "It's cold outside."

"Thank you! I know it's Christmas Even and I shouldn't be imposing on you, but I don't know what else to do."

"Don't worry," Dickie said in an attempt to calm down the nervous woman. "Why don't we have some tea and you tell me what's going on. Perhaps I can help."

"That's very kind of you, but I doubt I should bother you with my problem."

"Let me be the judge of that," Dickie said, as he helped Rachel out of her coat. He turned to the maid who was still lingering in the hallway.

"Could you bring us some tea and when Lady Merton comes home, tell her to join us straight away."

The maid nodded with wide eyes and vanished to get the tea.

In the drawing Rachel warmed her hands at the fireplace. "I've been walking around for two hours," she said. "I was so nervous that I thought the exercise would help calming me down."

"Shouldn't you be careful? I mean in your condition?"

"She's nervous when I'm nervous," Rachel said with a smile.

"You know it's going to be a girl?" Dickie asked surprised.

"Oh, yes. I can feel it." She looked around the drawing room and as they had last night at the Abbey, her eyes came to rest on the Christmas tree. "That's one beautiful tree," she said.

"Isobel picked it," Dickie said, glad the conversation was stirring into another direction.

"She has good taste," Rachel admitted. "Every Christmas is last Christmas."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing. I was just mumbling."

"Why is it you want to talk to Lady Merton?" Dickie asked curiously. As far as he could tell the two women hadn't exchanged more than a few words with each other since the McEwans had arrived in Downton.

"I want to apologize to her," Rachel explained. She turned away from the fireplace and Dickie offered her a seat. The maid arrived with the tea and after she had left again, Dickie sat down as well. "Why do you think you have to apologize to her?"

"Well, it's all because of my husband," she said. It was obvious she was struggling to find the right words.

"I have noticed he has an interest in her," Dickie said as vaguely as possible.

Rachel blushed and bowed her head. "Well, yes, he has, but I think you got it all wrong, just as he has got it all wrong."

"I'm afraid you've lost me, my dear," Dickie said.

"You see he has this idée fixe that…"

The door opened and Isobel came in. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Rachel and swallowed. "Well, good evening," she said sourly.

Dickie quickly rose to his feet. "It's good you're here," he said in an attempt to save them all from an unpleasant situation. "Mrs McEwan wants to talk to you. We were waiting for you."

"Were you?" Isobel asked in disbelief.

"Yes," Rachel answered. "Please, Lady Merton, please, listen to me."

Isobel looked at Dickie who silently pleaded with her to do as asked.

"All right then," she said and closed the door. "I'm all ears."

******tbc*******


	5. Joy to the World

**Chapter 5 - Joy to the World**

While Rachel McEwan was sitting in the drawing room of Crawley House, her husband Frederic McEwan was moping around the hospital. He was afraid to go home. He didn't want to look his wife Rachel in the eye. She would notice on the spot how he felt and that she had been right all along. And again. She had told him time and time again that his birth mother wasn't worth the trouble of looking for her and, of course, she had been right. Deep down inside he had always known that. He was the doctor, but Rachel was the clever one. She had an infallible instinct and sometimes he wanted to hate for it - and failed.

It was dark in Doctor Clarkson's office - dark and quiet. Snowflakes hit the window and the ringing of the church bells reached his ear. It was Christmas Eve and felt like idiot. Joy to the world.

He reached for the bottle on the desk and poured himself his second whiskey. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Doctor Clarkson sat on the edge of his hospital bed and drew a deep breath. He knew, it wasn't wise to get out of bed again, but there was no peace, no chance for his injuries to heal until he had found out the truth. Could Isobel, his Isobel, be the mother of Doctor McEwan? Had she smuggled him into his hospital to give her secret son a home and a career close to her?

He shook his head, gaining a wave of pain and sickness in return. The concussion was the worst that happened to him in years, but it hadn't affected his ability of thinking.

No, it made no sense. Isobel, the Isobel he knew, would never have a child out of wedlock and hide it. The Isobel he knew would rub it under everyone's nose that she had a child and she would be proud to do so.

He groaned and rubbed his weary eyes. There was no use in wrecking his head any further about this. He had to talk to the doctor to find out what was going on. Determined he rose from his bed and made his way across the lonely ward into the hallway.

"You see, Fred thinks you are his mother." Rachels' hands shook and tea spilled over the edge of her cup and her hand. She hissed with pain and put the cup on the table.

"He has told me as much," Isobel informed her crisply. Dickie held his breath and looked from Isobel to Rachel, waiting for more details. "And I told him he's insane!"

"He isn't insane," Rachel said ruefully. "Just desperate. He's been looking for his mother since he was a little boy and he came here, because he thought he's found her."

"But why on earth would he think Isobel is his mother?" Dickie wanted to know.

"It's complicated..." Rachel said, visibly struggling to find the right words.

"Then do your best to make it understandable!"

"Darling, please." Affectionately Dickie took Isobel's hand and caressed her knuckles with his thumb. The gesture soothed her and she drew a deep breath. Shel knew she had no reason to be so unkind to the obviously distressed Rachel, but her conversation with Doctor McEwan had deeply affected her. She squeezed Dickie's hand in return and nodded at Rachel, asking her to continue.

Rachel licked her lips. "You see, Fred grew up in an orphanage, before he was adopted. His parents were kind people. They gave him a good home and they even helped him to find out who his parents were. But I'm afraid there wasn't much to find out. We know he was born in Edinburgh in December 1882 and his mother left him at the stairs of at Saint Mary's Cathedral - in the midst of a Scottish winter. Can you imagine that? He's lucky to be alive!"

Isobel frowned. "Go on, please."

"Well, there was no birth certificate, but the local priest remembered a young woman who was highly pregnant and spent a lot of time in the church, so he assumed she was the one who placed the baby there, but there's no proof for that, of course. He remembered her name and that she came from England - from Manchester to be precise. She had trained as a nurse and was in Edinburgh and worked there in a hospital - until she couldn't hide her pregnancy and lost her job. She lived in the house of some distant relatives. It turned out they had only agreed to take her in, because she paid a lot of rent. There weren't very nice to be honest. The detectives traced them and they told them she went back to England - to Manchester, but there they lost track of her. I guess she got married to someone or left the country and never looked back."

Dickie looked at Isobel, "Have you ever been to Edinburgh in your youth?"

"As a matter of fact I was, but only for a few weeks after Christmas. I was there to visit a friend of mine. Our fathers studied together and we wanted to spend the holidays together."

"In 1882?" Dickie asked.

"In 1882," Isobel confirmed. "But by then I was already engaged to Reginald and certainly not pregnant."

"He had this mad idea when he met you last summer in Manchester. Apparently you mentioned having been to Edinburgh and being a nurse. He liked you and simply put two and two together to get five. Please, you have to forgive him!"

"This isn't about me forgiving him," Isobel clarified. "He has to give up the idea that I'm his mother."

"I know," Rachel said. "But his wish to find his roots have become overbearing since I've told him about my pregnancy. He wants to know who he is, before he becomes a father."

"Well, I think his time is running out," Dickie said dryly.

"I'm aware of that," Rachel admitted. "I wanted to prevent our coming here, but Fred didn't listen to me. All I can do now is to make sure we won't be staying for long, but with the baby being due so soon I doubt I can make that happen."

Rachel looked completely crestfallen and Isobel felt sorry for her. Her anger about Doctor McEwan's wild assumptions had faded away, because she understood his need to find out who he was, though she didn't necessarily agreed with his obsessive behaviour.

"I won't chase the two of you away," Isobel said. "We can try to help you, who your husband's mother was, but I think we can agree that it might be impossible to find her. She could be dead or living in another country."

Rachel nodded and gave Isobel a grateful smile. She looked at the small clock on the cupboard and sighed. "I should go. I've already ruined your Christmas Eve."

Rachel took Isobel's hand and squeezed it. "Please, accept my apology."

"Don't worry about that," Isobel said. Rachel nodded at Dickie and left the drawing room. Dickie followed her while Isobel stayed in the drawing room near the fire. Lost in her thoughts she stared into the flames, wondering if she was to blame for the mess. If she hadn't been so eager to help McEwan to find another job, he wouldn't have the mad idea that she was his mother! She sighed and rubbed her aching back of her neck, but before she could indulge into a rare moment of self pity, she heard a scream from the hallway. Alarmed she hastened outside. Dickie was supporting Rachel who was bending forward, holding her belly, obviously in pain.

"I think she's going to give birth," Dickie said. A mixture of helplessness and shock was written all over his face. Under different circumstances she would have been amused, but there was no time to lose! She called for her maid who, alarmed by Isobel's tone of voice, appeared almost instantly. She looked puzzled at Rachel and when she understood what was going on, her eyes grew big and she blushed.

"Anne, go into the kitchen and order Mrs Field to heat water. Then you get all the towels and linen you can find. His Lordship and I are taking Mrs McEwan upstairs into the guest room."

The young maid just nodded and vanished quickly.

"I'm afraid you're going to have this baby here," Isobel said. "God knows it's been some time a child was born in this house."

"Fred… someone has to call him!"

"I'll do that. I'll get him!" Dickie said quickly, glad there was something he could do. As every man he wasn't eager to attend a birth and wished to escape.

"Let's get you upstairs first," Isobel said and led Rachel to the staircase. "Don't worry, everything will be fine!"

* * *

Clarkson found Doctor McEwan in his office. Obviously the young man had found his supply of Scottish whiskey. Annoyed, Clarkson cleared his throat. "Are you comfortable?"

McEwan jerked up, throwing over the glass with his elbow. The expensive, golden liquid spilled all over the table.

"Doctor! I'm so sorry!" McEwan blushed. Clarkson noticed the young man's agitated movements and realized McEwan was already drunk - probably too drunk to take care of a potential emergency.

"May I ask, what you're doing?" Clarkson barked.

"I'm drinking," McEwan answered while he wiped away the last traces of the whiskey.

"I can see that. May I ask why?"

"No."

Clarkson scoffed. "A wild guess: it's because of your argument with Mrs Craw… Lady Merton. What is going on between the two of you and what on earth does it have to do with my hospital?!"

McEwan rubbed his tired face and sank back into Clarkson's chair. "I might as well tell you. It doesn't matter anymore."

"Why aren't you a little less mystic and a bit more precise?" Clarkson suggested as he sat down in his visitor's chair. "I'm not sure how long I can be out of bed before my headache kills me."

McEwan gave him a long look and then a smile broadened on his face. "That's finally the real you, isn't it? You never wanted me here in the first place."

Clarkson ignored McEwan's statement and closed the bottle. "Don't try to change the subject. This isn't about me. So, why are you here?"

McEwan toyed with the glass in his hand. "I'm looking for my mother."

"Go on."

"I did some research and Lady Merton fits the description of the woman I'm looking for. Age, appearance, background…. Everything leads to her."

Clarkson held his breath, waited for McEwan to continue, waited for a reason to call the young man a fool.

"This afternoon I finally confronted her. I asked her why she was so interested in me when we met last summer. Why she offered to help me…"

"And?" Clarkson almost screamed the word.

"She said, she did it out of helpfulness." He shrugged.

"What do you know about your mother?" Clarkson asked when he realized McEwan wouldn't continue his little report.

"Not too much… I know she was a nurse, trained in Africa. She met my father in Edinburgh in a hospital in 1881. He was a young doctor at the Royal Edinburgh Hospital. Their relationship didn't last very long."

Clarkson wrinkled his forehead. After he had finished his medical training he had spent a few months at this hospital. It wasn't a time he remembered with great nostalgia. He had never liked the hospital and when he thought about his short romance with a young nurse who had dropped him like a hot potato after their first night together, he felt his headache increasing.

"I'm pretty sure Lady Merton never worked in Edinburgh," Clarkson said.

"So she told me." It sounded defeated and Clarkson cleared his throat. "Christmas is not the time of year we get many emergencies around here, but you have to be sober just in case."

"I know," McEwan straightened his back. "I can assure you I can do my duty."

Clarkson preferred not to comment on that and just said, "Why don't you get yourself some coffee?"

Steps echoed in the hallway, then someone knocked, and without waiting for an answer, the door flew open.

Clarkson and McEwan turned their heads and registered with surprise that Dickie Merton was standing in the doorway. He was out of breath and his shoulders and hat were covered with snow. He looked like someone who had just made his way through a blizzard.

He nodded at Clarkson and then at McEwan, "Doctor!"

"Yes?" Clarkson and McEwan answered unisono.

Irritated Dickie looked from one doctor to the other, before he finally settled for the younger one. "Doctor McEwan, you have to come to Crawley House. It's a matter of great urgency!"

"Did something happen to Lady Merton?" Clarkson asked alarmed and was already on his feet.

Dickie shook his head, "It's not Isobel. I'm afraid Mrs McEwan is about to give birth in our guest room."

******tbc******

**I hope you all had a great start into 2020! The next chapter will be the last one of this story. Let me know, what you think! **


	6. I will honour Christmas in my Heart

**Chapter 6 - I will honour Christmas in Heart **

Exhausted, but filled with a sense of accomplishment and joy Isobel closed the door behind her and leaned against it. It was cold in the hallway. She checked her watch and realized it was already past midnight. Christmas. Like to confirm her thoughts, the bells of the nearby church started ringing. She dropped the towels she had been carrying on a chair near the door and went downstairs where she found Dickie in the drawing room. He was sitting near the fire and read a book. She smiled when she saw him and since he didn't notice her presence she observed him for a few moments, before she made herself known.

He looked up in anticipation and closed the book. "And?"

"It's a very healthy and big girl with red hair and blue eyes," Isobel announced solemnly. "Doctor McEwan will be staying for the night. I didn't want to send him outside in this weather."

Dickie sighed relieved. "Marvellous! You must be exhausted!" He rose and offered her his seat near the flickering fire.

"Not as exhausted as Mrs McEwan," she quipped as she sat down. Dickie poured Isobel a sherry and spread a thick blanket over her legs. Again Isobel smiled at her husband, ever so grateful she had agreed to marry him despite her initial fear to admit her feelings for him.

"Thank you," she said.

"Never mind," he said and pulled another chair close to Isobel's. "I want you to be as comfortable as possible."

"That's not what I mean," she said and took his hand.

Surprised he wrinkled his forehead. "I'm afraid you've lost me, my Darling."

"I was talking about today. You never doubted my version of events when Rachel told us about Doctor McEwan's mother. Many men would have questioned their wives and their past, wondering what she was hiding from them."

"I know you," Dickie said, a gentle smile playing around his lips. "There isn't one dishonest bone in your body. You maybe a cunning minx at times, but you never lie and giving up a child isn't like you."

She chuckled. "I'm not sure I should take this as a compliment."

"Oh, please do, because I wouldn't want you any other way." He leaned forward and kissed her deeply.

"You know the truth is, Doctor McEwan reminded me of Matthew when I first saw him. Perhaps that's the reason I paid so much attention to him and agreed to help him. It sounds a little foolish to say it and I hate to think I wanted some stranger to replace my beloved son."

Dickie wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she leaned against him. She finally relaxed and thankful he would never demand from her to change who and what she was. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

"It's hard not to do so. I think I might have to apologize to him. I was very rigid with him this afternoon."

Dickie chuckled. "Was it the kind of rigid you're using with Violet or the kind you're using with Doctor Clarkson?"

Against her wish she had to laugh about herself. "Don't remind me about Doctor Clarkson. We almost got him killed last night."

"He will live," Dickie said reassuringly. "And we both know he will forgive you, if you attacked him with a sword! Besides…I think he's waiting for you."

"Oh, I'm sure he is." She fell silent and closed her eyes while her head rested against his shoulder. For a few moments they just watched the flames dancing in the fireplace.

"Could I interest you in going upstairs with me?" he asked tenderly.

She raised her head and nodded. "I think you could."

He rose, stretched out his hand, and she took it. "If I were only ten years younger, I would carry you up the stairs," he joked as they reached the staircase. She laughed in response and placed her arm around his waist. "And if I were ten years younger, I would be happy to be carried, but tonight I don't want to risk anything - not even with the Doctor being our guest of honour!"

* * *

Richard Clarkson couldn't sleep. His world had turned more than once today and he felt as if he had lost control over his life. He really needed to talk to Isobel. Somehow it seemed she was the only person who could help him to make sense of everything. He had a hunch - a nagging suspicion that didn't leave his head and drove him almost insane. It was a thought that was so unbelievable, so abstruse that it could turn out to be true. But before he talked to anyone else, he had to talk to Isobel. She was the only one who could help him.

Why was this woman always the key to everything that happened in his life? He should move on. After all these years of waiting and wanting her, he should be able to forward, but every time he tried to do so, he found himself back at square one - just as he did now, while he thought about the possible existence of a family he never knew.

* * *

When Isobel left Crawley House shortly after ten o'clock to visit Doctor Clarkson at the hospital, the sun was shining brightly. It was the most beautiful day for Christmas and the sight of the blue sky filled her with hope and peace.

The hospital was almost deserted and she found Clarkson in an armchair in his office where he was reading a letter.

"Merry Christmas, Doctor," she said joyfully when she reached him.

Startled he looked up to her. "Lady Merton!" He tried to rise, but she bid him to stay seated. He looked terribly pale and exhausted and her concern for his health grew. She couldn't help but to feel guilty for his accident.

"How are you feeling?" she asked after she had pulled a visitor's chair next to his.

"As if a car hit me," he answered dryly.

"I'm so sorry for what happened," she said. "It was all my fault. If I hadn't forgotten my…"

He raised his hand. "Forget about it. I guess we can agree, it wasn't the most successful evening for any of us!"

"No," she agreed. "And now it's important we got you back onto your feet!"

"I am lucky I have a second Doctor around here. I've heard he's become a father of a healthy young girl?"

"Oh, he is. Mother and daughter are perfectly fine. They will stay with us until she's well enough to go home."

"I'm sure you have it all under control…" His voice trailed off and Isobel tilted her head. "What is it?" she asked. "You look preoccupied."

"I'm afraid, I need your help."

She did her best not to sound too amazed. Doctor Clarkson had never asked for her help before. He had always accepted it, but he had never actually asked for it. Actually, he was someone who loathed asking for anything. "Please, go on."

"I've noticed there was some confusion about Doctor McEwan's… identity."

"You can say that again."

"Well, I admit he's…irritated me as well."

Sure, she knew where his pedestrian explanation was heading, she cut him off. "I'm not his mother, if that's what you're referring to."

Pretty sure, she would leave the room instantly, if he told her, he thought McEwan was her lover, he cleared his throat.

"I know that. That's not what I meant."

"So, what did you mean?"

Isobel noticed with growing concern that it took him an awful lot of strength to ask the following question. "Do you happen to know who his mother is?"

After a few seconds of thinking, she slowly shook her head. Rachel hadn't mentioned a name as far as she could remember. "I'm afraid not, but she was from Manchester."

"And a nurse?"

"And a nurse."

"I see." He rubbed his aching forehead.

"What can I help you with?" Isobel asked, sensing there was something the doctor needed to get off his chest.

"I would feel better telling you, if I knew more about the circumstances of Doctor McEwan's birth," Clarkson said. "I already feel like a fool just thinking about it."

Isobel gave Clarkson a quick account of the little she knew about McEwan's parentage she heard from Rachel the other day and during her little report the Doctor became more and more lost in his thoughts.

"Anyway, I promised Mrs McEwan to help looking for Doctor McEwan's mother. I'm sure a good detective can find out everything Doctor McEwan needs to know about his birth family."

"That's just it," Clarkson said after a minute of silence. "I don't think you have to look very far to find out who his mother was."

"I beg your pardon..."

"You see, long before I came here to Downton I was working in Edinburgh where I knew a young nurse…." He avoided Isobel's questioning eyes and stared out of the window into the ice blue sky. "She vanished from one day to the next. She left no message and when I asked at her family about her whereabouts, they just sent me away. I couldn't make any sense of it and thought she had become tired of me or met someone else. Things like this happen after all, don't they?"

Isobel swallowed. This turnout was something she had not expected. It was strange to think about the Doctor as someone with a love life. As long as she knew him, there had never been a woman who had caught his interest - her aside. "So, if I were to find out the name of his mother…"

"We can hopefully exclude my worst suspicion," Clarkson concluded her sentence.

"But wouldn't it be wonderful if you finally had a family?" she asked puzzled. "Imagine!"

"Oh, I do and to come to the realization that I'm a father who had no opportunity to watch his son grow up is not something I look forward to!"

She narrowed her eyes. Why did he always have to remind her about his egotistical antics? "You truly are the personification of Scrooge!" she said angrily and rose. "As a mother who has lost her only child, I can only say that you're the most selfish man I've ever met! How can you turn down the possible gift of parenthood! What about Doctor McEwan and his pain of not knowing where he came from?!"

Angry with Clarkson she stormed out of the room, leaving him like a scolded boy. Feeling as if a hurricane had hit him, his headache increased and groaned. Suddenly the door flew open again and Isobel returned, her coat blowing.

"What was her name?" she asked bluntly.

"Rosalind Carrington," he answered dumbfounded.

"Good. I'll be back."

The door fell shut and again he was on his own.

"I was afraid you would say that," he said.

* * *

Isobel found Rachel and the baby in the guestroom.

"How are you feeling?" she asked the young mother who was rocking the baby in her arms.

"Like a queen," Rachel answered with a wide smile. "I'm so happy I could burst!"

"I know the feeling," Isobel said. "I felt the same when I had Matthew." For some moments Isobel became lost in her memories, but quickly decided she shouldn't get lost in her own past. "I was wondering about something. Perhaps you could help me."

"Of course!"

"Yesterday when you told us about your husband's mother you never mentioned her name…"

"I didn't?" Rachel wondered. "Well, the name she gave the priest was Rosalind Carrington, but I doubt it was her real name. The detectives said the name was a dead end when they searched for her in Manchester."

Isobel swallowed. "Rosalind Carrington?"

Rachel nodded.

"Oh dear."

"Are you all right?" Rachel asked worried. "You look incredibly pale!"

"I'm fine." Isobel sank on the edge of the bed. "There's something I have to tell you. I think you don't have to look for your husband's parents much longer - well, at least not for his father."

"I don't think I understand you." Rachel seemed genuinely dumbfounded by Isobel's statement. "How can you… how can anyone know who Fred's father is?"

"I know it sounds odd… even mad, but I just talked to someone… a man who knew Miss Carrington. A man who loved her. I think it's fairly possible that he's Doctor McEwan's father."

"Who?" The question was a mere whisper.

Isobel hesitated and wished she hadn't told Rachel about her suspicion. What if it wasn't true? What if Clarkson continued to behave like an egomaniac? "Actually…. I think it's best if we…"

"Who is it? Lady Merton, please!"

"All right… Doctor Clarkson told me this morning, he suspects that he's Fred's father. The name Rosalind Carrington is identical with the name of the nurse he met in Edinburgh."

"Oh my god!"

Rachel looked at her baby and then again up to Isobel. "Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?"

"No, not necessarily," Isobel admitted.

"Well, I do!" Rachel beamed. "Can I meet this man? I want to talk to him."

"That's just it. He's at the hospital… not feeling very well."

"Then I will go there!"

"But…" Stunned by the dynamic of the situation Isobel watched Rachel getting out of bed. Suddenly the baby lay in Isobel's arms and yawned heartily and Rachel was picking up her clothes.

"Please, hold the baby. I have to get dressed."

"Are you sure? What if…"

Rachel cut her off. "And what if not? What if this is going to be the most marvellous Christmas of all for my husband?"

Isobel couldn't argue with that, but she was wary. "I'll come with you. I'll ask my maid to have an eye on the baby."

"Thank you!"

While Rachel looked through her clothing to sort it out a blue scarf fell onto the floor. Isobel narrowed her eyes to have a better look at the embroidered, golden letters.

Curious Isobel looked at Rachel. "What does R.C. stand for?"

"Rachel Campbell," the young woman answered. "Campbell is my maiden name. My mother made it for me when I got 18."

"What a beautiful piece!" Isobel said and gave the scarf to Rachel.

"It is," Rachel agreed. "And now I have to get dressed!"

* * *

While Rachel was in the bathroom, Isobel took the baby and went downstairs to look for Dickie. She wanted to inform him about the latest developments and was surprised to find out he wasn't alone. Doctor Clarkson, visibly shaken was in the drawing room.

"When did you get here?" she asked annoyed.

"Right after you," he answered.

"He told me what happened," Dickie explained.

"Mrs McEwan is getting ready upstairs. She wants to speak with you, before her husband does."

"Where is he?" Dickie asked. "I haven't seen him all day!"

"He's making a house call," Clarkson said and stretched to have a look at the baby in Isobel's arms. "The head nurse told me, there was some minor accident on a farm last night."

Isobel acknowledged this with a curt nod and allowed the Doctor one quick glance at the child, before she left the room again.

"Don't you want to sit down?" Dickie asked. "Forgive me, but you look a bit exhausted."

Clarkson rolled his eyes. Who didn't like to be reminded about one's appearance?

"I didn't sleep very well," he said and took the seat Dickie offered him.

"That's quite understandable," Dickie said. "Let's hope we can unriddle this mess for everyone involved."

Clarkson answered nothing. He stared at the framed photograph of the late Matthew Crawley on the mantelpiece. _"How can you turn down the gift parenthood?_" Isobel had asked him earlier that day and, of course, she had been right with her accusation. He was an egoistic coward.

They heard noises in the hallway and seconds later the door opened. The maid led Doctor McEwan into the room. The young man looked bright and happy. He carried a big bouquet of red roses on his arm. Where had he found red roses on Christmas Day?

McEwan's jaw dropped when he saw Clarkson sitting there.

"Doctor Clarkson! You should be in bed!"

"I know, but I think it's vital that we have a talk!"

McEwan looked at Dickie. "Is it Rachel? Or the baby? Are they all right?"

"Of course! Of course!" Dickie reassured him. "They are upstairs and everything is as it should be!"

"So, what's so important?" McEwan looked from one man to the other. Dickie realized he was not needed and decided to leave.

"I think it's best I left you alone. Take as much time as you need."

Once they were alone McEwan looked dumbfounded at his superior. "I'm all ears."

Clarkson drew a deep breath, before he asked McEwan to sit down. "I want to ask you something."

"Go ahead." Mcewan abandoned the roses on the small table and sat down.

"Do you happen to know a woman named Rosalind Carrington?"

McEwan swallowed and grew pale. "I don't, but the name is familiar."

"I thought so." Clarkson cleared his throat. "What I'm going to tell you now isn't easy for me, but I hope you'll try to understand me..."

* * *

Isobel closed the book she was reading when Dickie entered the bedroom. She rubbed her tired eyes and suppressed a yawn.

"I agree," Dickie said with a grin as he slipped under the blanket. "It was a long day."

"It was the strangest Christmas I can remember," Isobel said. "I telephone Cora earlier. She wasn't happy with our absence. To make up for the inconvenience we caused, I invited them all for the day after tomorrow. When I told Mrs Field about it, she almost had a heart attack."

Dickie chuckled. "I bet she'll be happy to show off her cooking skills."

"Let's hope so," Isobel said.

"You may say it was a strange Christmas Day, but I think you did well. You united a family."

"We don't know that yet," Isobel argued mildly. "What if they never learn who Doctor McEwan's mother is?"

Dickie shrugged, "We'll do our best to find out who she is. I have a feeling that it will all turn out well."

Isobel smiled and shook her head, "You and your endless enthusiasm. Do you never never waver?"

He pretended to think for a moment and then he said, "No. Not really."

She laughed and snuggled up to him. "You're hopeless!" She kissed him deeply and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "I'm hopelessly romantic, I'll admit to that. _'I will honour Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all year'_."

The quote made her smile. "I should get a copy of 'A Christmas Carol' for Doctor Clarkson."

"Why?" Dickie asked puzzled. "I doubt he's interested in anything but his medical journals."

"Exactly. Perhaps that's the reason he's been behaving like Scrooge all this time."

"Let's hope his new profession as a grandfather will change that."

Dickie reached out to switch off the light and Isobel placed her head on his chest. "I'm not sure if I said it, but…. Merry Christmas, Dickie."

He gently kissed her forehead and inhaled the faded scent of her perfume, thankful to be at her side. Where she was, he was at home every day of the year. "Merry Christmas, Darling."

*****The End*****

**Sorry for the late update, but it couldn't be helped. Thanks for reading and reviewing! If anyone has a story request for me or an idea what to write next, don't hesitate to contact me. I can't promise anything, but I'm always open for new ideas! **


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